We Walk the Same Line

After unpacking moving boxes recently, I was reunited with one of my favorite CD's by Everything But the Girl. Bouncing away on my rebounder, I played it over and over like a teenage groupie.

I was particularly inspired by one of the songs written by Tracey Thorn. It put into music what I have felt for Kathleen during her treatment and recovery from breast cancer.

We Walk the Same Line

If you lose your faith, babe, you can have mine,
and if you’re lost I’m right behind, cause we walk the same line.

Now I don’t have to tell you how slow the night can go,
I know you’ve watched for the light.
And I bet you could tell me how slowly four follows three,
and you’re most forlorn just before dawn.

So if you lose your faith, babe, you can have mine,
and if you’re lost I’m right behind, cause we walk the same line.

And I don’t need reminding how loud the phone can ring
when you’re waiting for news. And that big old moon lights every corner of the room.
Your back aches from lying and your head aches from crying.

So if you lose your faith, babe, you can have mine,
and if you’re lost I’m right behind, cause we walk the same line.

And if these troubles should vanish like the rain at midday,
well I’ll have no doubt there’ll be more. And we can’t run and we can’t cheat,
cause baby when we meet what we’re afraid of, we find out what we’re made of.

So if you lose your faith, babe, you can have mine,
and if you’re lost I’m right behind, cause we walk the same line.

To the other single mums in the world affected by breast cancer:
When you're lost, we're right beside, cause we walk the same line with you.

B4Bx

Knock Knock

I’d like to dedicate this to my beautiful sister, Kathleen.

Kathleen, out of respect for your wishes, I remained discreet concerning the events in recent months. I thank you for your willingness to share your experience – one that so many other single mums with cancer and people around the world face on a daily basis.

As I sit in a beachside café, looking over the waters, I reflect upon a book I recently read by Richard Bach, Running from Safety. It challenged my level of thinking. What I aspire to in life is not safety; it’s growth. I attach myself to situations in life until I get the lesson, even when the lesson is more important that freedom itself. Once the lesson is learned, the door to freedom magically opens. The truth that resonates in our hearts will set us free.

As I write, I religiously select the words and honour their spirit while releasing them onto the page. Only until recently did I realise how important writing the blog last year was in coping with my emotions surrounding Kathleen’s breast cancer. It was a healing way for overcoming my pain. It was a way to relate to others.

Sometimes when everything seems to be moving in the right direction suddenly, events in life nudge us in an alarming way. Catch us off guard. Stop us in our tracks.

Reality knocks on our door. Who could it be? What could it be? Why now? I’m busy with life! Do we open it or don’t we? The knock continues…We have no choice. Ignoring it won’t make it go away. We must open the door and face whatever is behind it. Brace ourselves for what’s about to enter our life.

Knock knock

In end of June, nearly one year since the 100th day of the original B4B campaign for my sister Kathleen, I learned that she found another lump in her breast. The same breast she had the mastectomy. More concerning for her and her doctors, was the itching she experienced. The same symptoms she had when the first cancerous lump was discovered. How could this be? Her breast had been removed and reconstructed. She is IN RECOVERY, right?

This was a knock on my reality. I awakened to familiar emotions, I thought I had left long behind. This was my sister whom I love dearly and would do anything for. Within seconds learning about this new lump, my heart sunk. Yet, I had to abandon my own fear for a higher belief. Fear was a luxury I could not afford. If I did, where would that leave Kathleen? Instead, I had to invest in something truly precious: Faith.

Without hesitation, I opened the door and embraced the news, faithfully. “What else could this itching or lump in her breast represent?” I asked myself. “Ok Priscilla, think of at least 25 different meanings that are more empowering than the return of cancer. And when you get to 25, keep on going.” I intuitively felt in my heart this wasn’t cancer. This was something else and it would reveal itself in time.

Kathleen shared this news only with me and one of her closest friends. She didn’t want to raise the alarm bells and cause worry to her mom, our dad or her brave-hearted young daughters. She didn’t want a disruption in her life now that’s she’s found her new normal and happiness again. She wanted to believe this cancer story was behind her for good!

A doctor recommended an MRI scan. It was scheduled for 28th June. “Honey, how are you handling this?” I asked. “I get poked and prodded all the time”, she said. “I’ve taken so many tests that I don’t get emotional about it. I deal with the facts. Priscilla, I’m okay with this.”

Wow, I admired how positive she was. But when I mirrored her optimism by sharing the probability that it could be something else, the protective wall crumbled around her heart to reveal what she was really feeling: “It’s easy for you from where you’re standing. But you’re not going through it, Priscilla. It’s tough, you know. It’s like an emotional rollercoaster. The ups and downs are a struggle sometimes.”

Whoa…where did this come from? I was confused by the mixed signals.

She’s right, though. I admit my optimism probably stung like salts to an open wound. I was speaking out of turn and only when I stepped in her shoes did I get it. The easiest way for her to cope was to deal with the facts. Acknowledging emotions at this stage was potentially overwhelming for her. She had just opened the door and was getting acquainted with the new reality.

Because the symptoms she experienced were similar to those in the past, doctors were concerned the cancer had reappeared. Naturally, it required further investigation to rule things out. However, did the doctors need to share their concern with my sister before they knew the facts? With all due respect to their experience, the past does not necessarily equal the reality of the present. It was entirely possible that there were other explanations for her symptoms.

June 28th was a day filled with irony. Gazing out into the rising sun as I flew to Melbourne (Australia) for a B4B steering committee meeting, my thoughts turned to Kathleen. She was on the other side of the world having her MRI scan in Melbourne (Florida). How strange it felt to further develop the B4B infrastructure to help other single moms with breast cancer, when my sister was uncertain about her own recovery. My thoughts were with her. My heart was with her. Every ounce of my faith was with her.

Two weeks later, the MRI results gave the all-clear, which confirmed what I already believed to be true!!!! However, before loosening the cork to the champagne bottle, her breast surgeon (another doctor) told Kathleen that the results weren’t reliable in her case because film (x-rays) did not initially show any evidence of cancer.

This was unexpected and my heart sank again. It took me a while until I could channel my energies on the probability that all was good and this was simply a process of elimination. I kept my thoughts to myself, focusing on her needs of support.

At this point, she decided to tell her mom and eldest daughter, but chose not to tell her other child. Sticking to the facts. Riding the rollercoaster, from time to time. Ups & downs. More waiting. Patiently.

The day came for Kathleen and her mom to make the long drive to Moffitt Cancer Centre in Tampa to see her doctor. He needed to examine the lump.

Words cannot express the gratitude I felt when she told me the news that the lump was not cancerous. She was so overjoyed and relieved and I was for her. She explained that it’s a fluid pocket created from the mastectomy. It’s not within the breast, rather located in the upper abdomen close to the breast. They don’t need to operate. They will monitor and drain the fluid if it doesn’t do so naturally.

The news cascaded over me like a long-awaited rain after a summer draught. Even though I believed in my heart everything would be fine, I was overcome with emotions too great to hide. The moment came when I finally shared with Kathleen that I too had faced some challenges during this time. I asked her if I could write about it.

As the sun gradually descends into the ocean on the distant horizon, I ask myself this question:

What is the lesson I have learned?

The only way to truly practice our faith is when it’s tested. When we’re willing to meet what we’re afraid of, we find out what we’re made of: a greatness beyond ourselves.

With love, xp